


A Little Romance

by house_of_lantis



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Writer Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 22:37:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15543666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: Summary: After returning home on medical discharge, Bucky deals with the loss of his left arm and PTSD through writing. Five years later, who knew that he’d become a popular romance novelist.Pairing: Bucky/Pre-serum!Steve (not explicit); Pepper/Tony (married)Trigger Warnings: Brief description of graphic gore/war violence; PTSD flashback; panic attackNote: Romance novelist trope. So terribly self-indulgent but I don’t care! I just wanted to write a little romance. Hehe!





	A Little Romance

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally part of my Marvel one-shot fic collection (now deleted).

**_Brooklyn, New York_ **

**_January 7, Thursday_ **

 

Bucky poured the water into the old-fashioned coffee brewer and set up the rest of his morning coffee routine. He was able to do it now without making a mess all over his kitchen counter and floor, spilling coffee grounds and splashing water all over the place.

 

The Roomba 6000, a gift from Pepper and Tony, and affectionately nicknamed Dummy, whirled into the kitchen and circled around him before heading back out to the living room.

 

“I’m getting better about not getting it all on the floor, Dummy, better luck next time,” Bucky said to the Roomba. “And I’m talking to the Roomba again.”

 

One of these days, if the Roomba started talking back, Bucky was seriously going to go back to his counseling sessions.

 

The hairs on the back of his neck rose when he heard the sound of a key jiggling in the lock to the front door. Bucky counted his heartbeats, eyeing the knives in the knife block. He knew that only one other person had the key to his home, but years of battlefield conditioning didn’t fade away so quickly or easily just because he was a civilian now.

 

“Buck! I’m here!” Steve called, closing the door and thumping noisily down the narrow hallway.

 

He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, the tension easing from his shoulders. How did a little guy like Steve Rogers make all that noise? He was probably wearing his thrift store combat boots again.

 

“Kitchen! You want coffee?” Bucky called back, getting what he had designated as Steve’s coffee mug from the cabinet.

 

“Yes, please!” Steve hollered back, tossing his messenger bag on the floor and stomping towards the desk in the living room where Bucky’s computer and manuscript pages were waiting for him. “How many pages did you get done?”

 

“Just eighteen pages,” Bucky said, holding out his right hand and clenching it into a tight fist and then relaxing his fingers. “Got a hand cramp.”

 

Steve walked into the kitchen, a concerned look on his small, narrow face. “Are you going to your physical therapy appointments?”

 

“Yes, ma,” he said, giving Steve a small smile and waving the stump of his left arm. “Every Tuesday morning.”

 

“Jerk,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you just get one of those one-hand keyboards? It’ll save you a lot of time from having to handwrite all of your novels.”

 

Bucky shrugged and made a face. “I thought about it, but I think I like the act of writing. It helps me work the story out when it’s on paper.” He grinned, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Besides, then you’d be out of a job. What’s a little punk like you going to do to pay for grad school?”

 

“You don’t pay me  **that**  much, Bucky,” he said, giving him the hairy eyeball. “Besides, this is my last semester, so I’m going to have to go out and find a new job anyway.”

 

And that made it real for Bucky. In the next month or so, Steve wouldn’t have a reason to come over to Bucky’s place twice a week. He would sorely miss Steve’s company; and he couldn’t figure out any other way to keep Steve from leaving.

 

Steve nudged Bucky out of the way to check the coffee machine and peered inside the two mugs, determining which one was his and which one was Bucky’s. They both took it without cream, but Bucky liked his coffee with sugar.

 

Steve poured out the coffee evenly into the mugs and carried both mugs out to the living room, setting one on the coffee table for Bucky and taking his to the desk. Bucky followed and sat down on the couch, grabbing the remote and turning it on ESPN.

 

“So did you figure out how you were going to get Princess Alaina away from the kidnappers? Is the Duke going to rescue her?” Steve said, picking up the loose leaf lined sheets, squinting at Bucky’s chicken scratch handwriting.

 

Bucky snorted. “Princess Alaina is going to rescue herself; she doesn’t need a man getting her away from the kidnappers. They’re all a bunch of idiots for underestimating her.”

 

“Good,” Steve said, approvingly. He booted up the desktop Mac and pulled up the chapter files to Bucky’s newest romance novel-in-progress,  _Satin Nights in Arabia_.

 

The steady sound of Steve’s fingers tapping on the keyboard lulled Bucky into his comfort zone. He glanced over at Steve to see him smiling as he typed; he must be working on the part where Princess Alaina was telling Faisal that she could take care of herself and for him to back off. After Pepper read the outline and the initial first three chapters, she declared it her favorite of all of his novels and couldn’t wait to read the rest.

 

Unbeknownst to his readers, Bucky was the author of 16 romance novels published under his pen name B. Buchanan. After returning home with a Purple Heart pinned to his chest and a medical discharge, Bucky spent months lost in a civilian life he didn’t understand and couldn’t reconnect with; his therapist suggested that Bucky “write his feelings” which turned into Bucky writing about a romance between a stalwart Army Sergeant and a fiery British spy having loved, lost, and found each other again in the middle of war torn Europe during the Second World War.

 

It turned out that his group therapy leader, Sam, was friends with a literary agent named Pepper, who was married to publishing mogul Tony. Sam had slipped Bucky’s handwritten notebook to Pepper, and two days later, Pepper was knocking on Bucky’s door with a heavily edited, typed manuscript bundled in her hands.

 

 _On the Wings of Love and War_ became an instant bestseller and that was the birth of B. Buchanan was and the launch of a five-year long writing career in contemporary romance novels where the heroines were empowered, kickass women who took lovers and partners because they chose who and what they wanted. His novels rose in popularity and B. Buchanan became known as “a romance novelist whose heroines weren’t the usual damsels in distress, often saving themselves and sometimes even rescuing the men who came to save them.”

 

Bucky and Steve spent the next hour in companionable silence, the sports commentator on television filling the silence. Bucky watched as Steve diligently typed the pages, pausing now and then to mark up and edit the sheets, the pen cap tucked between his front teeth.

 

The soft whir of the printer pulled Bucky’s attention from the television and he watched as Steve looked at the latest pages, his green pen twirling between his fingers as he made his final edits and comments. He paperclipped the latest pages and set them near the growing pile of typed manuscript pages for Bucky to read later.

 

Steve let out a soft groan and got off the chair, stretching his arms over his head and bending down low to touch his nose to his knees. Bucky watched in delighted interest as the slender young man stretched out his lean limbs.

 

He didn’t want to be a total creep because Steve was, well, Bucky’s employee, even though it was Stark Publishing that actually paid the temp agency where Steve worked, and Bucky didn’t want to be that kind of asshole that came on to someone who was technically working for him.

 

Steve groaned again, stretching out his back.

 

 _Jesus flipping mother._..Bucky sighed, internally, keeping his face neutral. Part of him wondered if Steve did it just to tease him. Realistically, Bucky knew better than to think that. Steve wasn’t the type of man to play coy or play games. He was straight-forward honest, for good and bad, and people always knew where they stood with Steve.

 

Still, Steve was gorgeous and smart and sassy and sexy. Bucky could imagine wrapping his hands around Steve’s slender waist, feeling the lean muscles under the soft skin of his back, and winding his hand into Steve’s blond hair to hold him still while he kissed that sharp, plump mouth... _shit_ , Bucky liked him far too much for it to be considered professional.

 

He looked away before Steve caught him staring inappropriately, facing the television screen.

 

“The latest pages were real good, Bucky,” Steve said, collapsing on the couch near Bucky, his knee pressing against Bucky’s thigh. “I like Princess Alaina a lot, she’s earthy and smart and doesn’t take anybody’s bullcrap; and the Duke is a good guy who really gets her but he’s not a doormat about it.”

 

Bucky grinned. “But…”

 

“But I’m kind of in love with Prince Faisal,” Steve said, sitting up and looking quite torn. “He’s charming and literate and hilarious! And he’s such a flirt. And I love that he’s modern and progressive; that he’s trying to create a better world for his people and…and it’s making me wonder if Princess Alaina shouldn’t choose him over the Duke.”

 

“Why can’t she have both?”

 

Steve brightened, eyes widening. “Is that how the story is going to end? She’s going to keep both of them? Your readers would probably love that!”

 

“Maybe…but I think most of my readers really do want the happily ever after ending. And the Duke is going to do right by her, so I think it’ll work out,” he said, chuckling softly at Steve’s enthusiasm. “Besides, it’s good for the Duke to know that Faisal is there, flirting and charming Alaina; it’ll keep the Duke on his toes so he doesn’t take her for granted.” He frowned, thinking about that for a moment. “Not that that should be the reason why he doesn’t take her for granted. She chose the Duke and that’s reason enough.”  

 

“Okay, but promise me that you’ll write a story where Prince Faisal gets his happily ever after, too. I swear, your readers will want to see a story with Prince Faisal in it.”

 

“All right,” he said, grinning widely. “How’s your thesis coming along?”

 

“It’s fine, but god, I hate regurgitating someone else’s ideas.”

 

“Are you making progress on your paper?”

 

Steve gave a half shrug. “Progress enough. I figure, I just have a few more chapters to draft and then the conclusion. I just want this done and then do my thesis defense and graduate.”

 

“Academic burnout?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, falling back against the couch, looking sleepy and cute with his long bangs falling into his blue eyes. “I need to get to the library and finish my research, but as you can see, I’m not all that motivated.”

 

Bucky chuckled. “You can stay for lunch if you’d like. I was going to order a pizza.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“And if you want to stay here and study, that’s okay with me. I was just going to do some writing and then I have a Skype meeting with Pepper later in the afternoon.”

 

Steve sat up and smiled. “Yeah? You really don’t mind?”

 

“I don’t mind,” he said, softly. “I could…use the company, to be honest.”

 

He glanced at Steve to check his reaction, but he didn’t look like he felt any pity or obligation to Bucky. And Bucky appreciated that; Steve was one of the few people who didn’t try to baby Bucky or pity him for the loss of his arm.

 

Steve reached out and squeezed Bucky’s shoulder, thumb brushing Bucky’s neck. “All right, Buck, sounds like a plan.”

 

***

 

**_January 11, Monday_ **

 

“Hey, Buck, did we run out of printer paper?”

 

“Check the bottom drawer, I think I have one ream in there,” Bucky said, jogging lightly on the treadmill on the other side of the living room.

 

Steve tugged open the bottom drawer. “Got it! Want me to put in an order for another box of paper?”

 

“Yeah, please, that’ll be great,” he said, slowing down to a cool down pace, getting his heartbeat back down to a normal range. After ten more minutes, Bucky hit the stop button and carefully stepped off the slowing treadmill. “I’m going to shower, be right back.”

 

“Sure, sure,” Steve said, distractedly, kicking the drawer closed with his foot and looking at the computer screen.

 

Bucky went upstairs and to his bedroom, quickly stripping out of his sweaty workout clothes. He preferred wearing loose clothes that he didn’t have to fuss with buttons or ties or anything that he couldn’t easily do one-handed. His therapist and his friends wanted him to look at getting a prosthetic, but there was a part of Bucky who thought that he’d feel self-conscious with a prosthetic.

 

Early in his writing career when his popularity was just taking off, Pepper and Tony offered to ensure that Bucky received the best biomecha technology that was out there. If the loss of his left arm was keeping him from making public appearances to promote his books or meeting his fans, they wanted to make sure that he was taken care of. But that wasn’t the reason why Bucky preferred to stay out of the limelight.

 

It was because he was writing in a genre mostly for women, usually contributed by women. He didn’t want to seem like he was imposing himself onto a community. Maybe women would feel weird to read a romance novel written by a one-armed man? Pepper and Tony didn’t believe so, but Bucky was too shy to reveal his identity publicly.

 

He finished his shower quickly and pulled on clean clothes, jogging down the stairs to the living room. Steve was buckling his messenger bag, pulling the strap over his head as he hurried across the room to the front hall.

 

“Gotta run, Bucky!” Steve called, clomping his booted feet across the wooden floor.

 

“Hey, is everything okay?” Bucky said, frowning in concern.

 

“Yep, everything’s fine. Just got an appointment I forgot about. See you on Thursday!”

 

And Steve pulled the door closed behind as he flew out of Bucky’s townhouse. He leaned against the wall, completely puzzled, and shook his head as Dummy whirred past him.

 

“Well, Dummy, what was that all about, huh?”

 

The Roomba circled around his feet.

 

“I really need to stop talking to the Roomba. Maybe I should get a dog.” He considered it for a moment and realized that he wasn’t capable of taking care of a dog. “Because talking to a dog is any better than talking to the Roomba.” He snorted. “Maybe I need to make more friends.”

 

***

 

Bucky was trying to work out the last love scene in  _Satin Nights_ when his cellphone buzzed on the coffee table. He picked it up to see that it was Pepper.

 

“Hey, Pep, what’s going on?”

 

“Oh, James! You have to come for dinner tomorrow night. I have to talk to you about your latest novel,” she said, excitedly.

 

He chuckled. “Alright, sure. What time?”

 

“We’ll ask Happy to pick you up, around six,” she said, letting out a deep breath. “James…I knew you had it in you. I mean, I’ve always believed in your talent, but the latest novel is…it’s going to be a noted work. It’s going to have its place as a piece of American literature. I’m so proud of you.”

 

“Uh, okay?” He said, chuckling again. “Well, I’m glad you liked it.”

 

Steve must’ve e-mailed Pepper the newest chapters. He thought maybe Pepper was going a little overboard with her compliments, but he appreciated her support.

 

“See you tomorrow night,” she said, wistfully. In fact, it sounded like she was fighting tears. Good lord, which chapters did Steve send her?

 

He ended the call and dropped the phone on the couch cushion beside him, picking up his pencil and tapping the pencil tip gently against the paper. Princess Alaina would want to be on top. She and the Duke would enjoy that. He’d worship her; want her to love every moment of being with him. For just a moment, he contemplated including Prince Faisal into the scene; give both Alaina and the Duke a night they wouldn’t forget. Steve was right, there was no doubt that his readers would love it, but the romantic in him wanted Alaina and the Duke to have their perfect happy ending.  

 

***

 

**_Stark Manor_ **

**_January 12, Tuesday_ **

 

Pepper Potts and Tony Stark lived in one of the biggest private homes in Manhattan. The Upper East Side mansion took up an entire city block. Happy, their driver, pulled into the private driveway behind the house and Bucky thanked him as he got out, walking to the front door.

 

It was kind of creepy that their private security and house staff were expecting him; that as soon as he reached the front door, it opened and Bucky was greeted warmly by Jarvis, longtime Stark family butler but was probably more like the family  _consigliere_.

 

“Good evening, sir.”

 

“Good evening, Jarvis,” he said, shaking the older man’s hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

 

“It is a pleasure to have you back at Stark Manor, Sergeant Barnes.”

 

Bucky’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. “You’re just never going to call me Bucky, are you?”

 

Jarvis closed the door and smiled, gesturing with his hand for Bucky to follow him. “It would go against my English sensibilities, sir.”

 

Bucky followed him to what was probably considered a den in a normal home, but when the house was the size of a city, the room probably had some kind of fancy name, like with the word “grand” attached to it.  _The Grand Den. The Grand Ballroom. The Grand Front Room. The Grand Solarium. The Grand Library._ Bucky wondered if they wouldn’t mind if he described their home as a fictionalized setting for his next romance novel. It could be the perfect setting for Prince Faisal’s New York residence.

 

Bucky liked the idea of setting the story in New York, maybe his next heroine would be a hard-working, streetsmart woman from one of the other boroughs, a modern day Cinderella story but without the Prince coming to the rescue. Maybe she would rescue Prince Faisal instead. From a gang of bullying thugs. Using a shock stick; because why wouldn’t a streetsmart, hard-working young woman carry tactical urban defense? And would a woman own and use such a thing even if it was a Class A misdemeanor in New York? Bucky thought, yes, yes she  _fucking_ would, if she lived in a tough neighborhood. She should have every right to own a defensive weapon, even if it was illegal. Maybe the only “rescuing” that Prince Faisal would do is give her access to his legion of international lawyers when she’s arrested.

 

He could picture the scene: She would be in holding and Prince Faisal would come in, demand to see her, surrounded by his entire private security staff, and a dozen shark-like lawyers backing him up. The woman would look up, take one look at the scene, and roll her eyes.

 

When Prince Faisal’s usual charm and flirtatiousness didn’t work on a woman, what would he do? Show her who he really was; be open and vulnerable with her.

 

Bucky thought he might have his next love story.

 

He followed Jarvis dreamily through the house to the large, comfortable room. It was predictably decorated with bookcases and tapestries and priceless artwork on the walls. There were two sitting areas, a black grand piano, and oddly, a large gold birdcage with a gigantic plush bunny inside.  _Rich people were really weird._ Bucky grinned, looking at his two friends. It was obvious that Tony was in flirt mode, leaning close to his wife, whispering something in her ear to make her laugh. They were both dressed casually in jeans and shirts; Tony’s bare feet on the plush carpet looked oddly vulnerable while Pepper wore embroidered velvet slippers. Tony was sliding his fingers down Pepper’s long neck and moving in for a kiss.

 

Jarvis cleared his throat discreetly and Bucky smirked at them, raising his eyebrow.

 

“James,” Pepper called, getting up from the couch and heading straight for him, pulling him into a warm hug. “Oh James, I’m so glad you’re here.”

 

“Good to see you, too, Pepper,” he said, reaching up to pat her back gently with his right hand.

 

“Buckster,” Tony said, holding a bottle of water in his hand. They shook hands; Bucky always wondered why a man like Tony Stark, a billionaire publisher, had such calloused hands. There was no doubt that the older man pampered himself, but yet his hands belonged to a man who worked rough. Bucky knew enough about Tony Stark to understand that there was a man of substance underneath the glitz and glamour; besides, Pepper wasn’t the kind of woman to put up with any kind of nonsense.

 

“Dinner will be in twenty minutes,” Jarvis said, pleasantly.

 

“Thank you, Jarvis,” Pepper said, nodding her head to him, who then discreetly disappeared from the room.

 

“Drink?” Tony offered, walking to the far wall with the bar.

 

“Just some soda, please,” he said, letting Pepper take his right arm to tug him gently to the sitting area. “Okay, so what’s this all about? You don’t usually gush over my romance novels like this.”

 

“Romance novel?” She said, quizzically.

 

“  _Satin Nights in Arabia_ ,” he said, sitting down on the couch and nodding his thanks to Tony who handed him a glass of soda. “Didn’t Steve send you the latest chapters?”

 

“No? I mean, yes! Yes, I’m sure your newest romance novel is going to hit the New York Best Seller’s list again,” she said, looking at him oddly. “I’m talking about your new manuscript,  _The Winter Soldier_.”

 

Bucky froze, his hand tightening on the glass. “How…how do you know about that? I—I didn’t…” He dropped the glass and scrambled to his feet, shaking his head. His back and neck muscles tightened, as if someone had pour freezing cold water on him. Nights in the desert were so cold; Bucky hated being cold. “No one…no one’s supposed to know…how did…”

 

_…and there was the unbearable heat of pain, the muzzle flash around him looking like firecrackers going off in the desert night; he could see that his left arm wasn’t completely blown off, hanging together with bits of bloody muscles and tendons. Drenched down his left side, his blood was clammy and smelled like old rust. He reached into his boot and pulled out his combat blade, screaming as he sliced through the bloody stump to free himself. He pulled off his belt and wrapped his upper arm with it, pulling as tight as he could to staunch the bleeding, biting his bottom lip as he tried to muffle his scream. His men were down and the entire convoy was blown to hell, bullets piercing the sand all around him. He crawled behind the overturned vehicles, checking on his fallen men, checking for life. He grabbed one by the neck of his jacket, dragging him to safety; he needed to radio his location in and get air support. He needed to save his men—_

 

“Whoa, hey, Bucky,” Tony said, soothingly, holding Pepper back and moving slowly towards Bucky, his hands held out to sides. “Just breathe, Bucky, just breathe. Hey, why don’t you have a seat here and Pepper will get you some water and I’ll help you breathe.”

 

Bucky nodded, trying to catch his breath, falling into a plush armchair. Tony knelt beside him, his hands curled over the armchair arm, breathing in and out steadily, keeping his eyes on Bucky.

 

“Doing good, Buckaroo, doing good,” Tony said, giving him a small smile.

 

“Sorry,” he said, catching his breath. “Sorry…spilling soda…carpet.”

 

Tony chuckled, good-naturedly. “Nothing to worry about, kiddo. Are you breathing? Keep it slow and steady.”

 

“Oh, James, I’m so sorry,” Pepper said, handing the bottle of water to Tony. She kept her distance, not wanting Bucky to feel closed in during his panic attack.

 

He shook his head, trying to give her a smile. “Not…not your fault. Just…caught me by surprise.”

 

“That’s putting it mildly,” Tony said, cracking open the top and handing him the bottle. “Drink some water. I think you’re doing better now.”

 

He took a sip of water, the coolness of it helping him settle back into the present. “Shit. I hadn’t…I hadn’t had a flashback like that in a long time.”

 

Pepper sat down on the edge of the couch, a worried look on her face. “I’m so sorry for triggering you.”

 

“You didn’t know,” he said, as reassuringly as he could. He drank more of the water and took a deep, settling breath. “Jesus, I’m sorry for ruining everything. Maybe I should go.”

 

Tony shook his head. “You didn’t ruin anything, Buck. Anna made your favorites, you couldn’t possibly leave. She made extra so that you could take some home with you.”

 

Bucky positively drooled at the idea of Anna’s cooking. She was a genius in the kitchen; Jarvis was a lucky man.  

 

“Okay,” he said, nodding his head. “Okay, I’m okay now. I wouldn’t want to be rude and leave without having dinner.”

 

***

 

**_January 14, Thursday_ **

 

Bucky was pissed.

 

He clenched his fist, watching the coffee maker gurgle. The rich aroma of the coffee hit his senses, and normally it would ground him, but he was too pissed off to focus.

 

Right on schedule, he heard Steve putting the key in the lock and jiggling the doorknob. The familiar sound of Steve clumping his way down the hall and his usual greeting of “it’s me!” warmed Bucky’s heart, but he was still so fucking pissed.

 

“In here,” he said, brusquely.

 

Steve’s steps slowed as he walked into the kitchen, his handsome face already drawn with guilt. “Hey, Buck.”

 

“Why did you do it? That was private. It wasn’t any of your business,” Bucky said, his voice hoarse. “No one was ever supposed to see it.”

 

“Because it was so good, Bucky,” Steve said, earnestly. “Better than your romance novels, better than anything that’s been published. It deserves to be read; people need to read your story. It was...it’s an incredible story.”

 

“But it was mine. It was private!”

 

“I’m sorry I went behind your back like that,” Steve said, stepping closer and raising his blue eyes up at Bucky, meeting his gaze without fear. “But I’m not sorry that I gave it to Pepper.”

 

“That wasn’t your decision to make, Steve. You don’t make those kinds of decisions for me.”

 

He nodded. “I know. But I had to do it and I stand by it. It was the right thing to do.”

 

_God, this little punk, with his “right thing to do” bullshit._

 

“Leave your key and get out, Steve,” Bucky said, his hand shaking against his leg. “Just go. I’ll make sure that you get your payout to the agency--”

 

“Bucky--”

 

“No. Just go, Steve! Just go!”

 

Bucky turned away and faced the coffee brewer, taking the cowardly way out. If he turned to look at Steve, he was pretty sure that he’d beg Steve to stay. He heard Steve taking off the key from his key ring and gently placed it on the counter near Bucky.

 

“I’m sorry, Bucky.”

 

He took a deep breath, trying to settle his anger. It had been a long time since he’d gotten so angry over anything.

 

“I get that you’re angry at me, but I want you to know that you’ve written something powerful, something that should be shared. I’ve loved all of your books, Bucky, and you’ll always have my support.” Steve stepped closer to Bucky, his voice low and soft. “I know I betrayed your trust. I really believed I was doing the right thing for you, but I can see that I wasn’t thinking about why you wouldn’t want anyone to read your story. Because I know that that’s you, in that story. So I’m sorry for that. Maybe one day you’ll understand and will forgive me. But no matter what, if you ever need me, I’ll be here.”

 

Bucky’s throat tightened and he couldn’t say anything. He heard Steve make a soft sniffle, then the heavyweight of Steve’s boots thumping across the wooden flooring, the sound of him opening and then gently, but firmly, closing the door behind him.

 

He stared at Steve’s key, trying to process -- just trying to process everything. His feelings for Steve, his feelings about  _The Winter Soldier_ seeing the light of day, and his feelings about his hermit-like life, hidden away in a dark corner, still afraid to come out to touch the light. Because that’s what Steve was, he lived in the light and he wanted Bucky to be there with him.

 

Bucky pulled out his phone from his pocket and flicked through his contacts. He pressed his thumb on the number and placed the phone against his ear, waiting for it to connect.

 

“Hey, Pepper, it’s me. Can you come over? I...I want to talk about my...my manuscript. About  _The Winter Soldier._ ”

 

***

 

**FOUR MONTHS LATER**

**_May 13, Friday_ **

 

“It’s hot off the presses,” Pepper said, sliding the hardcover book towards him.

 

Bucky stared at the cover of the publisher’s first run copy of  _The Winter Soldier: The Long Road Home_ by James Buchanan Barnes.  

 

He remembered the long, late night fights he had over which image to use for the cover. He didn’t want it to be his picture while Pepper argued that it would put a face on his experiences; and then Tony had contacted a few of his old buddies from his unit, asking for any pictures of Bucky, and they had all reached out to Bucky to ask for his permission.

 

For a long time, Bucky didn’t know what to say. He was so happy to get back in touch with the men from his old unit; he was emotional when they came to visit him. All of them knew what they had lost that night and what Bucky did to save their lives. It was that reunion with his friends and finding out that they had gotten home safely and had good lives, some even had children (  _“Jesus, DumDum, you fucking procreated, god help us all”_ ), and that life was for living, that finally brought Bucky back from hiding on the sidelines of his own life.

 

_“You’re a smug little fucker,” Bucky said to Tony, handing over a few of the pictures that his men had taken of him, fully armed and geared up in his desert tactical uniform, sitting on the hood of his humvee with a faraway smile on his face. That was the last time Bucky would have both of his arms._

 

_“You’re a handsome asshole,” Tony said, clapping him on his back._

 

“This is really incredible,” Bucky said, tracing his hand over the cover, lingering on his name. His real name on a book. “Thank you.”

 

“Well, look at you,” Tony murmured, affectionately. Bucky rolled his eyes and turned to say something insulting to Tony, but ended up laughing when he saw that Tony had gotten distracted by Dummy and was tinkering with the Roomba in the living room.

 

“And the interview went live this morning,” Pepper told him, a proud smile on her lovely face as she slid her tablet towards him, showing him the homepage to the  _Publisher’s Weekly_ website.

 

A month ago, when they had contacted him wanting to write an article about the new book, Bucky wanted to say no. But he realized that he would be doing himself a disservice if he continued to hide in the dark. After that mess with Steve, Bucky had returned to group therapy and it was Sam who gave him a small push to face his fears and to take the first step in reconnecting with his life. Seeing his men alive and whole helped him take the next step. And allowing everyone to see him, scars and all, got him to the next step.

 

The photographer and the writer had come to his townhouse and took a few photos of him in the comfort of his home. He hadn’t worn a long sleeve shirt, going with his favorite  _The Matrix_ tee-shirt, showing the stump of his left arm, a wry smile on his face.

 

That was the picture he was looking at now on the tablet. He took a deep breath and tapped the link to the interview. He winced, bracing himself for whatever the writer had written about him, about his new book, and about his no-longer-secret writing career as B. Buchanan, romance novelist. But the interview was fair and it was definitely in his favor. He let out a breath of relief and looked up at Pepper.

 

“I want the new book to do well, but...do you think this is going to hurt my other books?”

 

Pepper gave him a fond smile. “Your fans love you even more, knowing who you really are now, Bucky. I don’t think you’ll have a problem with selling your next romance novel.”

 

Bucky grinned. “Good, because, I actually kind of love writing them.”

 

Pepper reached out and held his hand. “Good. That’s settled then.” She collected her tablet but tapped the book cover with her hand. “You know, Steve is doing his thesis defense next Wednesday at NYU. It’s open forum. You should give him this and let him read the dedication page.”

 

“You didn’t…”

 

“Oh, I did,” she said, unapologetically.

 

Bucky groaned, shaking his head. “You and Stark are both a pair of nosy busybodies!”

 

Pepper laughed in his face, giving him a smirk. “Tony, darling, let’s go,” she called, chuckling softly as she walked past Bucky. “Oh, Tony, for god’s sake!”

 

“Uhhh…” Tony said, looking up guiltily, surrounded by parts of the Roomba. He held up a mini screwdriver and shook his head. “It’s a compulsion, Pepper, I didn’t mean to--”

 

“You killed Dummy,” Bucky said, astonished.

 

Tony began collecting the pieces around him, shoving them into his suit jacket pockets, pants pockets, every pocket he had available. “I’ll fix it. I swear, better than new, I promise!”

 

Bucky sighed, shaking his head. “Just...bring him back in one piece and he better not start talking or anything like that.”

 

“I’ll fix him!” Tony said, hurrying down the hallway to the front door. “Better than better than new!”

 

Pepper stared fondly at her weird husband, then turned knowing eyes to stare at Bucky. “Next Wednesday at 2 PM.” She leaned close to him and kissed his cheek. “Don’t disappoint him.”

 

He walked her to the front door and waved as Happy held the door as she stepped gracefully into the back of the limo. The back window rolled down and Tony stuck out his head. “I’ll fix him and bring him back!”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes and snorted, waving his hand at them. He closed the door and walked back to the kitchen counter. He swallowed, reaching out with his hand to open the cover and the inside pages, reading the lines of the dedication page.

 

***

 

**_New York University_ **

**_School of Arts and Sciences_ **

**_Seminar Room 4_ **

**_May 18, Wednesday_ **

 

Steven G. Rogers, Culture and Media, Connecting with Our Past to Inform Our Future, Candidate for Master of Arts.

 

Bucky moved quietly into the seminar room, taking a seat in the back and ducking down low. He clutched the book in his hand, scanning the front rows for Steve. He smiled when Steve’s name was called, taking his place on the raised stage, moving the podium from the center to the side. He worked quickly and competently to set up his laptop, lowering the large projection screen over the massive whiteboards.

 

The lights dimmed and Bucky gave a soft sigh of relief. He didn’t want to cause Steve any anxiety during his thesis defense and presentation. He knew how hard Steve had worked to get here and Bucky wanted to be here, if anything, than to just show Steve that he was damned proud of him.

 

The hour long presentation was fascinating and Bucky couldn’t stop leaning forward, his attention completely captured by Steve and the images that he showed on the screen. When Steve finished, Bucky sank back down on his seat, and listened as the Thesis Committee spent the next hour asking Steve questions on his research, his data analysis, and his insights on his contribution to the field of knowledge.

 

At the end, the few people in the seminar room applauded Steve, and Steve smiled, shakily, as he shook hands and thanked the Thesis Committee one by one.

 

Bucky waited until Steve was alone and made his way down to the front of the room. Steve tucked his laptop into his messenger bag and slung the strap over his shoulder. He blinked, looking at Bucky, his eyes widening with surprise.

 

“Bucky?”

 

“Congratulations, Steve,” he said, smiling at him. “That was a fantastic presentation. They’d be a bunch of fools if they didn’t award you your degree.”

 

Steve’s hand clutch his strap. “Thanks. Thanks, Bucky. It means a lot that you came.”

 

“I’m glad I was able to be here,” he said, clearing his throat and feeling like an idiot. He held out the book to Steve. “I...I came to give you this. And to say thank you. And that I’m sorry.”

 

“Ohmygod,” Steve murmured, taking the book and staring at the cover. He turned it over to the back to look at Bucky’s picture. It was one of the pictures that the photographer from Publisher’s Weekly took of him. “I’m...this is amazing, Bucky.” He turned it back to the front and opened the book to scan the inside flap. His smile was wide when he looked back up at Bucky. “I’m so proud, Bucky.”

 

“It wouldn’t have happened without you,” he said, stepping closer and biting his lower lip. “Read the dedication page.”

 

Steve turned the inside pages and stared at the words printed there:

 

_None of this would’ve happened without Steve Rogers._

_It was a long road, but I’m ready to come home._

 

Bucky watched anxiously as Steve opened his mouth and inhaled deeply. He closed the book and stared at the cover for a long time.

 

“You going to kiss me now, jerk?” Steve said, looking up through his long bangs, a light blush on his cheeks. “That’s what happens in all of your books, right? Happily ever after.”

 

Bucky grinned, his heart feeling quite full. He licked his lips and stepped closer, his hand curling against Steve’s warm neck. “You been waiting long for yours, punk?”

 

“Shut up and kiss me,” Steve said, reaching up to curl both of his arms behind Bucky’s neck and meeting him halfway for a long, warm kiss. It was nearly chaste, but Bucky could feel Steve trembling against him.

 

Bucky knew that they had a lot to talk about; but it could wait. They had time. He held out his hand.

 

“Let’s celebrate your thesis defense. Have dinner with me.”

 

Steve chuckled, opening his messenger bag and shoving the book inside. He took Bucky’s hand and turned to look up at him, bright smile and pretty blue eyes warming Bucky all the way through.

 

***

 

**EPILOGUE**

 

**_June 12, Sunday_ **

 

Bucky was curled up against Steve on the couch, working on a new chapter for his newest romance novel  _Hard Knock Love_ featuring tough-as-nails ER nurse Jane and the return of Prince Faisal. Steve was right, his readers loved Prince Faisal and wanted him to have his happy ending, too. Jane wasn’t going to make it easy for him, but Bucky was kind of developing a small crush on her, much to Steve’s amusement. Of course, Bucky wasn’t going to tell Steve that he had modeled Jane’s crusading spirit and standing up to bullies on Steve.

 

Steve had gotten a great job at  _Stark Publishing_ as a community advocate for the encouraging young people to write about their community experiences and publishing a collection of stories geared for middle school and high school education markets.

 

The quick  _thud-thud-thud_ against the front door nearly made Bucky bite through his tongue, but Steve’s steady hand on Bucky’s shoulder stopped him from jumping over the couch and going for the kitchen knives.

 

“It’s Tony!” Tony hollered from the other side of the front door.

 

“Jesus, that man is going to get shot one day,” Bucky groused as he got up to answer the door. “Stark! What the hell?”

 

Tony’s smile was a bit wild as he pushed past Bucky, something huddled in his arms, and stalked into the rest of the house. “Bucky. Steve. Good, you’re both here. Look and be amazed.”

 

He placed the Roomba on the door and turned it on.

 

“Dummy?” Steve said, leaning over the couch, staring down at the Roomba. “You fixed him.”

 

“Better than better than new,” Tony said, looking over at Bucky. “He responds to voice commands now  **and**  I built in a low level AI learning system.” He waved his hand at Dummy. “Say something to him. Give him a command that you normally wouldn’t be able to give him.”

 

Bucky blinked and shook his head.

 

“Dummy, please check the bedroom floors,” Steve said, cocking his head slightly.

 

“Acknowledged,” Dummy said, his soft mechanical voice sounding a little too much like Tony. They watched as the Roomba whirred and moved down the hall to the staircase.

 

Bucky nearly fell when Dummy started to float, heading up the staircase to the second floor. “Fuck! Fucking fuck, Tony!”

 

“I know! I programmed in hover technology as well,” Tony said, looking rather proud of himself.

 

Bucky made a face. “What--who are you?”

 

Tony smirked. “Happily married, billionaire publishing mogul, technology innovating genius!”

 

“That’s kind of long on a business card, huh?” Steve said, chuckling.

 

“Well, can’t stay, have to go tinker some more in my workshop before Pepper finds out what I did!” Tony blew them a kiss as he headed out of Bucky’s house.

 

Bucky and Steve shared a look.

 

“I’ll get the Roomba,” Steve said, getting off the couch.

 

“I’ll call Pepper.”

 

Steve grinned, moving up on his toes to kiss Bucky’s mouth. “Or you could just meet me upstairs.”

 

“Disable the Roomba first,” Bucky said, kissing him back.

 

“Five minutes?”

 

“Five minutes.”

 

**_And they lived happily ever after._ **

 

**_The end._ **

  
(No Roombas were harmed in this story)


End file.
